


Sweet Alchemy: A Bakeshop Romance with Buttercream and Luster Dust

by rubygirl29



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Hearts and Flowers, Les Trois Demoiselles, Luster dust is magic, M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers, sweet tooth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: Bucky loves Steve, but how does he tell him? Steve loves Bucky, but how does he tell him? Steve and Darcy have a plan, and Darcy decides Bucky needs a push in the right direction. A sequel toA Christmas Tree Grows in Brooklyn





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's Valentine's Week, right? So, I'm not officially late with this story. Thank you to all my readers who asked for more of this AU. You were my inspiration to write. Enjoy this bit of Valentine's Day fluff.

January is cold and bleak. To his utter disgust, Bucky gets sick. What he thought was just a cold turns into the flu because of course, he didn't have the wherewithal to get a flu shot when he should have. Steve is ahead of the game on that, having gotten his shot just before he lost his apartment. 

He spends the first ten days of illness in utter misery and the last two weeks feeling like he dragging himself through sludge. He forces himself to go to work, to eat, to put one foot in front of the other and to tell Steve he's fine, really. Bucky knows Steve is watching him when he's not looking, with that damn crease between his brows and a mouth drawn straight. 

Bucky's illness puts the damper on anything resembling a physical relationship. With Steve's dicey lungs, Bucky isn't going to indulge in kisses and cuddling. Well, at least not kissing, because Steve is a natural cuddler. When Bucky sits shivering on the couch, Steve wraps him up in blankets and sits close, the heat of his body transferring to Bucky's even through the blankets. Once Bucky is past the contagious stage, Steve pulls Bucky against his chest as they watch TV. Bucky wakes more than once to find himself surrounded by Steve, also asleep, but so warm and so comfortable that Bucky doesn't ever want to move. 

And Steve _cooks_. He makes chicken soup and grilled cheese. He scrambles eggs, or makes overnight oatmeal that will be easy on Bucky's raw throat. He brews tea with lemon and honey and indulges him with baked treats from Les Trois Demoiselles. 

Bucky has never been so spoiled in his entire life. It feels wonderful, but at the same time he's building up massive quantities of guilt because he'll never be able to repay Steve in kind. Of course, he can't tell Steve that, because Steve would just get this wounded look in his blue eyes that when coupled with sadness will make Bucky want to crawl into his closet and never come out. So, no. He can't do anything but let Steve cosset him. 

It's a relief that he's finally on the mend, can go back to work, and let Steve have his life back; but Steve doesn't seem particularly interested in things going back to the way they were. He still cuddles. He still pulls out the knitted afghan one of the vets at the center had made for him and covers them both with it, pulling Bucky close. Does Bucky want him to stop? Hell, no. He's not that much of a fool. 

He keeps going, and finally, the second week of February, he starts feeling _almost_ normal. Just in time to walk into Les Trois Demoiselles and into an explosion of red and pink and hearts _everywhere._

Bucky's never been a huge fan of Valentine's Day, partly because he believes it's a holiday made up by jewelers and confectioners. He isn't sure about jewelers, but judging from the pink cupcakes, the red velvet cake with pink cream cheese frosting, the strawberry pinwheel bread, and the raspberry-almond croissants dusted with pink sugar, he's 100 percent correct about the confectionary industry. 

Steve is behind the register, and fuck, he's got pink luster dust highlighting his cheekbones and pink powdered sugar on his nose.. Bucky wants to kiss him right there, never mind the college students and the girl making doe-eyes at Steve. Bucky must be scowling because she takes one look at him, pales, and retreats to the huddle of her girlfriends. 

Great, now he's terrifying children. He tries to rearrange his face into something less grim. Steve looks up and smiles, and Bucky goes weak in the knees. Could he still be running a fever? "Umm, hi."

"Hey," Steve doesn't seem to notice that Bucky's about to spontaneously combust.

"Hey," he replies weakly. "Do I look like I have a fever?" he asks.

Steve's eyes narrow in concern. He reaches over the counter and sets a palm against Bucky's cheek. "No, but you look like you need some sugar before you pass out."

Bucky's brow shoots up and Steve, finally realizing what he's said, blushes furiously. "I - uh … I meant that maybe your blood sugar is low."

Bucky blinks. "Yeah, maybe. What do you recommend?"

"The croissants. They're amazing."

"Okay, one of those and coffee."

"Black?"

"Maybe I'll live it up and have some cream in it."

"Sugar and cream?" Now it's Steve's turn to raise a brow. "You sure you can take all that?"

"Darlin', I can take all you have and then some," Bucky drawls and winks before sauntering over to his usual table. 

_Dear God, he can't believe he said that! What was he thinking? What is Steve thinking? He is so screwed, basically, is what he's thinking. Maybe he should just sneak out the back entrance._

Before he can recover himself, Darcy comes over with his order. "What did you say to Steve?" she asks. "He flew into the back room where I swear he's hyperventilating or something."

Bucky buries his head in his crossed arms. "God. I've ruined _everything_!

"What did you ruin?"

"I flirted with him. Blatantly."

"And?"

"He'll never speak to me again."

Darcy sits across from him and pats his arm. "I doubt that. He's crazy about you, you know."

"I don't know." Bucky tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, "He's a great guy, but one chaste kiss doesn't translate into 'crazy' about me."

"He didn't smack you down, either."

"He's not exactly the smack-down type," Bucky sits up and shoves his hair out of his eyes. "Ruined."

"Let me tell you something about Steve. He's perfectly capable of delivering a smack-down when he wants to -- or has to. You're not the only guy or girl who's come on to him. With that face and that body? Boy, does he ever get hit on. Yet, he manages to cut off their advances just fine. He's not that nice."

Bucky won't let himself feel that faint stirring of hope. "He's my roommate. Maybe he just wants to keep the peace."

Darcy snorts. "Yeah, right. You really don't believe that, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe." 

Darcy inches the plate with the croissant on it closer with a red-tipped fingernail. There is a little glittery white heart decal on the glossy surface. "Eat," she encourages him. "Believe in the power of the pastry."

Bucky has to smile. "Thank you." He feels a little dizzy. He must need the calories. He takes a bite and the sugary crust tastes the way he thinks Steve's lips would taste. He is so gone on this guy. He thinks back to the way things used to be; to the confident, cocky, flirtatious guy he had been in college, the guy who was never afraid to go after what he wanted, or doubt that he could charm his way into anybody's heart with a crooked smile and a wink. 

Then everything changed. He changed. His body was scarred and broken and he is still trying to put the pieces back together. 

Bucky sighs and takes another bite of croissant. He takes a sip of coffee and watches Steve surreptitiously as he works the counter. He's so easy with everybody; from the young mother with a crying toddler to the elderly lady who seems to think he's the cutest thing she's ever seen, to the teenage girls making heart-eyes at him. He's unfailingly courteous and kind, giving the toddler a sugar cookie with the mom's permission, of course, carrying the cup and a cupcake to the older woman and serving her with a bow (God, how hot is that?), and gently distracting the teens from their flirting. 

Steve looks at him and shrugs, smiling and gorgeous. Bucky wants to die right there, but he smiles back and raises his cup in a salute. His heart has settled down -- so the food must have helped his blood sugar. He really should remember to eat. 

He takes out his phone to see if Clint has left any messages about work in progress that Bucky needs to check up on, but all is quiet. He calls one of the crews and asks for updates and tells them that he's spending the day off-site and will be available if there are issues. He knows the guys working on the sites, and since most of them are vets, he trusts them to put in their hours. They're almost ridiculously punctual and hard-working. Sometimes he feels he's taking advantage of Clint, but he also knows he works well with the crews, troubleshoots construction problems, and reports daily. As long as Clint is happy with his work, he'll keep on doing it. What will happen in a few months when the remaining units are renovated, he doesn't know; but then he's never been big on long-range planning. 

He looks up to find Steve bringing two mugs of coffee and a covered plate over to the table. He sits across the table from Bucky. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just checking up on things." He puts his phone in his pocket. "Thanks for the coffee."

"It's my job to take good care of my customers," Steve says, smiling. "Makes me look good in front of the boss."

Bucky gives him a once over, not missing anything, from the way Steve's hair falls over his forehead to the way his shirtsleeves hug his impossible biceps. He shakes his head, "Like you have to worry about that!"

Steve blushes, which makes the luster dust on his cheekbones glitter. It's really not fair. "What?" Steve asks. "Have I got frosting on my face?"

"No, not frosting." Bucky reaches out and slides a finger across Steve's cheek. Steve's eyes widen and the blush deepens down his throat to his collarbone. Bucky holds out a finger with a trace of shimmer on it. "Like a star."

Steve's lips part slightly and it's all Bucky can do not to touch, because that would be invading personal space. It would be bad enough at home, but out in public? Disaster. Major Disaster. 

Steve takes the napkin off the place revealing a pink frosted heart liberally dusted with luster and with the phrase, _Be My Valentine?_ Bucky eyes it askance. "Fresh baked?"

"No."

"I didn't see any with luster dust on them."

"No?" Steve's blue eyes are wide with what looks like innocence, but probably isn't. After living with him for two months, Bucky knows his tells. He's a trained observer, after all. His heartbeat speeds up when Steve says, "I'm kind of an expert on luster dust." His blue eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth quirks up. 

Okay. That's definitely flirting. Bucky can't wrap his mind around the idea that Steve is flirting with _him_ , but he's up to the challenge. "Really? You'll have to enlighten me."

"Luster dust is made of diamonds, pearls and stars. It is a gift to the pastry chefs of the world that endows them with special magical powers." 

"Hmm. What are those special magical powers?"

Steve picks up the cookie and with the slightest breath, sends a tiny puff of glitter towards Bucky. He feels the warmth of Steve's breath, the lightest touch of particles so fine that he might have imagined it. Steve leans in close. "It has the power to make two people fall in love."

For a moment, Bucky imagines that he feels a magnetic pull towards Steve. Then he leans back, smiling. "You are so full of it." The smile leaves Steve's eyes, and Bucky feels like he just kicked a puppy. "I … uh … You've got customers," he says lamely. 

Steve gets up slowly. "It's busy. I don't know when we'll close up."

"I'll wait up," Bucky hopes Steve sees it as the apology it is. 

"You don't have to." Steve walks away and Bucky wants to cry. He doesn't notice Darcy sneaking up behind him. 

"What did you do?" 

Bucky jumps. "Holy shit, Darcy, you shouldn't sneak up on me like that!"

"Well?"

He shakes his head. "I was being the total jerk that I am, that's all."

"You break his heart and I'll break your other arm," she glowers. "Stop acting like you don't care, Barnes. I know you love him. It's as plain as the luster dust on your face." 

"What should I do?" he asks miserably. "I've … I've never been in love before."

"Well, duh. I kind of guessed that. Wait here. I'll be right back." She returns a few minutes later with with two small, sparkly boxes. Pink, of course. With glitter, and a red sparkly sticker holding the lids down. One with his name on it, one with Steve's. "Don't open them until you and Steve are ready for dessert."

"Why?"

"You'll let all the magic out."

Bucky rolls his eyes, and yelps when Darcy digs her fingernails into his arm. "Ouch! Okay. Okay."

"Go, be good. It will work out," she says and kisses him on the cheek, then rubs the lipstick off. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bucky."

He buttons his coat and goes out into the cold. He walks, and on the same street corner where the Christmas tree lot had been set up, is a guy selling bouquets. Bucky picks out a mixed bouquet of small white flowers, red roses, and holly berries. He has to give the guy points for recycling the holidays. 

He makes another stop at a bodega and picks up tomato sauce, pasta, and a bottle of red wine. He splurges at the butcher shop on really good ground meat, real parmesan cheese, and a tub of mascarpone. He'd seen a show on the Food Network with a recipe for a creamy tomato sauce that he's been meaning to try. 

Cooking with one arm is a pain, literally, as he overworks the muscles in his remaining arm, but the end result is worth it. It tastes amazing. He sets the table with a cheap red-checked tablecloth, their best -- okay -- their only dishes. He puts the flowers in the jar from the sauce and adds the sparkling box of what has to be something special from Les Trois Demoiselles. 

Then he waits.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Steve, coming in the door and stamping the snow from his boots, wakes Bucky up. He sits up, feeling disoriented for a moment until he remembers where he is, who Steve is, and what day it is. He finally gets himself upright in time to see Steve's eyes widen when he sees the table. 

"Bucky?"

"I was a jerk, earlier. I'm sorry."

Steve gives him a look. "Flowers?"

Bucky shrugs and blushes. "An apology, and I wanted to do something for you."

"Why?"

Bucky takes Steve's jacket and hangs it up. "Are you hungry?"

"Always. Still … flowers?"

"The guy on the corner looked so wistful whenever I walk past."

Steve smiles gently. "You're a soft touch." 

"I'll have you know I 'm a highly trained sniper. I'm a total badass." He dishes out the pasta -- rigatoni because managing spaghetti with one utensil without cutting it into little pieces is inviting disaster. Bucky isn't five years old. Smearing spaghetti sauce on the nice shirt he's wearing would just be off-putting. 

Steve takes a bite and then another before he sighs happily. "This is amazing. I didn't know you cooked … I mean really cooked, not just threw together soup and sandwiches."

Bucky shrugs. "I was motivated." 

"Yeah? By what?"

"Not wanting to be an ungrateful gimp of a roommate."

Steve frowns at him. "You've never been that. You never will be that. You saved my life, remember?"

Bucky looks down at his plate, then up at Steve. "It was worth it."

Steve looks like he wants to take Bucky's hand, but the only one available is holding a forkful of rigatoni. "Thank you," is all he says and they go back to eating. When Bucky gets up to clear the table, Steve stops him and pours him another glass of wine. 

"No, you sit and rest. I'll do this. I'm a professional, after all."

Bucky laughs. "You win this one. It will get us to dessert faster."

Steve makes coffee while Bucky finishes his wine. It leaves him with a warm glow in his middle. He watches Steve work with efficient grace. It's beautiful. Steve is beautiful. He could watch him for the rest of his life and die a happy man. 

Steve brings two cups and two plates to the table. "Dessert?"

Bucky slides the box with Steve's name on it across the table. "Should we do this one at a time or together?" Steve asks. His voice is serious, but his eyes are teasing. 

"Together." Bucky can't wait, but at the same time he's nearly shaking with apprehension.

"Why?"

"I don't know! Darcy seemed to think I'm a clueless idiot. I just do what she says. It's easier than arguing with her."

"Coward." But Steve's eyes are soft and lit with humor. "On the count of three. One. Two. Th --" He doesn't even finish before they're both lifting the lids. In the silence, Bucky stares at the pink-iced cupcake topped with a pearly fondant heart. The words, "Steve Loves Bucky," glimmer in the light. 

Steve is looking intently at Bucky, and suddenly it all makes sense. "You really should really be careful with that luster dust if you want to keep a secret."

Steve turns his cupcake to Bucky. "I didn't do this one. 'Bucky Loves Steve.'"

Bucky swallows. He didn't write it, but he doesn't want to deny it, either. He takes a breath. "I didn't write it, but it's true." He makes himself look at Steve. "I love you."

A slow smile spreads across Steve's face. "So all of this wasn't just about an apology?"

"Valentine's Day, Steve." 

"It's only fair then."

"What?"

Steve takes his hand, and comes around the table. "You know how I feel." He kisses Bucky's hand. "Is Darcy right about your feelings?"

Bucky is faintly dizzy with longing. It's unfamiliar and unsettling. "I don't know how she figured it out, but she's right. It must be magical alchemy."

Steve's smile is dazzling. "Come here." He pulls Bucky upright, wraps an arm around his waist and draws him close. 

Bucky's knees nearly go out from under him. Steve's big body is warm and hard, his arm around Bucky's waist is both comforting and compelling. Bucky lifts his head and Steve kisses him. 

This isn't at all like the kiss they shared at Christmas. This one is deeper, slower, both demanding and requesting. Bucky gives in, letting Steve part his lips with his tongue in a deep and dizzying kiss. 

When Steve breaks off for a breath, Bucky almost sobs, but then Steve walks him over to the couch and lays him down, stretching over him. "Is this okay?" he asks.

"Better than." 

"I'm sorry it took so long to get here."

"It's okay, Stevie. I figured sooner or later I'd find some way to tell you how I felt. Just never thought it would be on a cupcake."

Steve laughs. "Admit it, it was a genius idea."

"And if it hadn't worked? If Darcy had written something like 'He loves you not,' what would you have done?"

"I would have drowned my sorrows in raspberry buttercream and chocolate cake."

"You can still do that … after I get more of this." Bucky kisses Steve. "Though it's not half as sweet as kissing you.." 

Nothing, he thinks, will ever be as sweet. "Happy Valentine's Day, Stevie."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Buck."

Darcy must be right. Pink hearts and luster dust have to be magic, Bucky thought as he lost himself in kissing Steve. There's no other explanation. 

**The End**


End file.
